The Wishing Well
by Welcome to my House of Mirrors
Summary: Gaius had said that Faerthurin's Spirits had a knack for tricking you into wishing your life away. Why hadn't Merlin remembered that before he gave them the coin?
1. Faerthurin's Well

Disclaimer:_ I do not nor will I ever own Merlin or the characters presented by the show. This writing is meant strictly for entertainment purposes._

**So this is my first time writing a Merlin fanfiction. I'm excited! Anyway, since I'm new to this whole Merlin thing, I would appreciate it if anyone could point out any character mistakes I've made. The plot for this story isn't included in any of the episodes of Merlin; it's just something I made up. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

"I think it's going to rain," Merlin stated, looking at the grey clouds above them.

"I never would have guessed," Arthur replied sarcastically.

Merlin frowned. "There's no need to be a prat. I was just saying. Why are we still out here anyway?"

"Because we haven't made it back to the castle yet," Arthur said in annoyance. "Honestly, _Mer_lin, can you _be_ any duller?"

Merlin opened his mouth to retort, thought better of it, and snapped it shut again, settling on glaring at the Prince's back.

They'd come far this time, yet with still no luck in finding Faerthurin's Well.

Arthur wanted to find out what Faerthurin's Spirits knew of Morgana; they had been searching for the Well for weeks now — ever since Morgana had gone missing, — going a day at a time. Merlin was glad, however, that the Well had yet to be uncovered. Gaius said that Faerthurin's Spirits had a knack for tricking you into wishing your life away.

Water slowly began to drip through the trees as they continued on their path back to the castle, accompanied by a soft breeze that made Merlin shiver. It was the start of October and beginning to get cold.

"Merlin…"

The young warlock's head snapped up at the sound of his name being called. Looking around, he found that no one was talking to or even looking at him. Thinking it was just the wind playing tricks on his mind, he ignored it. But then he heard it again.

"Merlin… Over here, Merlin…"

The voice was light and airy. There was no way it could have come from any one of the knights. Confused, Merlin looked around again. After a moment, he realised that he seemed to be the only one who could hear it.

"Merlin…"

Glancing back to make sure that no one was watching, the servant turned his horse in the direction the voice had come from.

He soon found himself in a small, round clearing. In the very centre stood an old-looking stone well. The rain pattered harder through the leaves.

"Come to us, Merlin…"

Checking again that he was indeed alone, Merlin slid off of his horse and made his way cautiously towards the well. Faerthurin's Well.

A strange, heavy feeling began to settle in Merlin's body as he peered into the misty water at the bottom of the stone structure. His mind grew hazy, and he wondered vaguely if this was a dream.

"You have come, Emrys… We are glad…"

"'Ow d'you know who I am?" The question was much harder to form than it should have been. Merlin thought it might have something to do with the way his tongue felt as if it had been turned to lead.

"How could we _not_ know who you are? We know all, Emrys…"

"Wha' d'you want with me?" Merlin asked, trying not to be distracted by the fact that he sounded highly sedated, even to himself.

"Would you give your life for your Prince, Emrys?"

"Yes." Though Merlin was faintly surprised by the question through the haze in his thoughts, the answer was given without a moment's hesitation. He wondered if it was a mistake to tell Faerthurin's Spirits how willing he was to give his life for Arthur's. Gaius had said…

"We can see the forthcoming danger, Emrys… We can protect the Prince…"

"Wha' danger?" Merlin tried — and failed — to look around quickly, only managing a lazy tilt of his head. This frustrated him on some nearly nonexistent level.

"We can protect your Prince, Emrys…"

He thought for a moment. There was no way he would be able to protect Arthur, not in this state. There were the knights of course — Gwaine, Leon, Percival, Elyan, and Lancelot — and he hoped that the affects of… whatever this was would wear off by the time he left the clearing, but it was better to be safe than sorry, right?

"An' wha' d'you want for it?" he asked, knowing that there had to be some sort of a price.

"It costs only a coin, Emrys… Only a coin…"

Merlin considered it briefly once more before being interrupted by the sound of someone calling his name again. Recognising the voice to be Gwaine's, he struggled to get a coin out of his back and into the Well. It dropped into the water with a soft _plunk_.

The boy could already feel the haze in his mind retreating as he lead his horse out of the clearing, only stumbling once or twice on the way.

"_There_ you are, you idiot," Arthur snapped upon seeing his servant. He grasped his shoulder firmly and gave him a quick once-over.

"All right there, mate?" Gwaine called, grinning. "Been drinking again? Lord knows you can't hold your liquor."

"_Where_ have you been?" Arthur demanded after finding no obvious injuries. He glared at Merlin.

The younger man shrugged. "Just got distracted, I guess." It wasn't a lie. Not really.

The Prince rolled his eyes. "Back on your horse, then, _Mer_lin," he ordered, mounting his own horse. "We haven't got all day."

Merlin couldn't help but wonder what 'forthcoming danger' Faerthurin's Spirits had been speaking of, and what significance a _coin_ could have to things that seemed to be only voices. He cursed himself for not having asked more questions.

The rain was growing steadily harder as they continued. Merlin almost didn't hear it over the sharp sound of the drops hitting the leaves. Almost.

"Arthur, what was that?" Merlin called, halting his horse and looking around.

"What was what?" Arthur asked in annoyance.

"It sounded like —"

"Bandits," Leon finished.

Everyone turned to find at least a dozen men running towards them, yelling. It rained harder. Thunder rolled overhead.

The knights dismounted immediately, Merlin quickly following suit.

"Merlin, _stay here!_" Arthur shouted, taking up a defensive stance, his sword drawn.

And he did — for the most part. He watched as they fought, shivering with the pouring rain and harsh wind. But as soon as he saw that bandit knock the bolt in his crossbow, Merlin knew he couldn't just _stay there_.

Arthur didn't have time to react as he was suddenly shoved to his left, and he didn't have time to see what happened before he was engaged again.

Percival, however, saw everything. He inhaled sharply as he watched the bolt pierce Merlin's right side just under his ribcage. Anger quickly rose within him, and in minutes the man who had shot Merlin was dead.

Merlin swayed slightly with the wind and winced as he pulled the bolt out of his flesh. It didn't hurt, not really, and that surprised him. Instead of the pain he had been expecting, there was a dull burning sensation and a curious numbness spreading throughout his torso.

The young warlock was confused as the image of the knights and the bandits was abruptly replaced with one of the canopy of green above him. He turned his head against the rain that was making it hard to breath and found that he was on the ground.

_What happened to the _Spirits_ protecting Arthur?_ he wondered vaguely, closing his eyes. _I gave them my coin, didn't I?_

Merlin frowned as bits of his conversation with Faerthurin's Spirits danced in his thoughts.

"_Would you give your life for your Prince, Emrys?"_

"_Yes."_

"_It costs only a coin, Emrys… Only a coin…"_

"Oh," Merlin groaned as the pieces clicked in his mind. "Oh _no_."

* * *

The wind howled, biting sharply at Arthur's skin as torrents of rain made it nearly impossible for him to see. He cursed and pushed his sodden hair away from his eyes furiously.

"Damn it, M-Merlin, I t-told you to stay p-put," Arthur snapped, his teeth chattering. He put more pressure on the wound, trying desperately to stem the blood flow.

He didn't want to think about the fever that burned from his manservant's skin at first touch, or the deathly chill that had settled beneath it. He didn't want to think about the pale blue colour Merlin's lips were undoubtedly tinted, or the fact that his blood was cooling far too quickly as it seeped from his body, or the way each laboured breath rattled in younger man's chest. He didn't want to think about the fact that his servant's — his _friend's_ — imminent death lurked somewhere in the shadows, waiting for Merlin's body to stop fighting.

"You w-_will_ stay with me, Merlin," Arthur said fiercely. "That's an o-_order_."

"It's… just like you to… order me about on my… on my deathbed," came the weak reply, much to Arthur's relief.

"Well, what are m-masters for?" the Prince joked. Then the realisation of what his manservant just said hit him. "You are n-_not_ on your deathbed, M-_Mer_lin!"

But Arthur knew that he very well could be.

"Stupid… prat," Merlin sighed, almost affectionately. Then he was still.

Arthur could see that the servant was unconscious again even through the sheets of rain obscuring his vision. He could also see, though he didn't want to, that if they didn't reach the castle soon, Merlin would not live to witness another day.

"G-Gwaine!" Arthur called. "Have you f-found the h-horses?"

"N-no such luck, Princess," the knight replied, closer than Arthur had suspected. "H-how is he?"

"Not g-good," Arthur said, sliding one arm under Merlin's knees and the other under his shoulders before standing. "Round up the others. We need to go n-now."

Gwaine nodded and began calling for Percival, Leon, Lancelot, and Elyan.

"We need to l-leave," Arthur said once they had all gathered round him. "Merlin's not going to get any b-better out here."

There were low murmurs of agreement.

"Just one p-problem," Elyan said. "H-how are we supposed to get back in th-this?" Arthur could barely see him as he gestured around himself to the rain.

Arthur cursed in frustration. How indeed.

"Did you see the w-way the horses ran?" he asked finally.

"That way," Leon replied, pointing to his right.

"Then we go that way," Arthur concluded, already heading in the direction Leon was pointing.

The rain was merciless, the cold wind equally as unforgiving, and it seemed to mock them as they struggled through the storm. Arthur was trembling as though he might fall to pieces at any moment. His knights were no better off. Merlin had long since stopped shivering.

They walked for what seemed like hours, silent save the occasional query on Merlin's ever-worsening condition shouted over the din of rumbling thunder and lashing rain.

The Prince was quickly becoming frustrated, because the rain wouldn't let up and they had been at this for hours and damn it Merlin was _dying_. Arthur had never felt so helpless in his life.

Just as he was about to voice his irritation aloud, however, Gwaine yelled, "I can see the castle!"

Those few words ignited a burning fire inside of Arthur. He would _not _let Merlin die. He picked up his pace, now catching sight of the castle himself.

Finally, _finally_, they made it past the gates and into the vast stone building, dripping with water and still shaking fit to come apart. Arthur immediately began to call for Gaius. The physician was there within minutes.

Gaius knew with one look at his ward that he needed treatment _now_. They took him into the nearest chambers and a maid was sent to fetch the required medical supplies as Arthur helped get Merlin's sodden tunic off.

"Is he going to be alright?" Gwaine asked after a moment, his eyes trained on the injured man before him.

Gaius exhaled slowly. "I believe so. Nothing seems to have been punctured internally."

"Destiny really… has it out for me, doesn't it?" Merlin's voice surprised them.

Gwaine chuckled sympathetically. "I'll say, mate. What have you done to deserve it this time?"

Merlin laughed weakly. "I wish I knew."

"I _told _you to stay where you were," Arthur reminded him. "Don't you ever listen?"

The young warlock grinned at Arthur, opening his eyes lazily. "Now what fun would… that be?"

"The kind where you _don't get shot_," the Prince replied hotly.

"Would you… calm down? I'm perfectly… fine," Merlin sighed, wincing as Gaius prodded at his wound.

"Right. Perfectly fine," Arthur repeated, rolling his eyes. "That explains why you in pain and struggling to breathe."

"Ah, let him be, Princess," Gwaine chuckled. "He'll be alright. Won't you, Merlin?"

"Of course I will."

* * *

**Is it good? Should I continue? I would really love some feedback!**


	2. And So the Truth Comes Out

**So I tried to include Lancelot in this chapter, as was very, _very_ helpfully suggested to me. Tell me what you think! =)**

* * *

When Lancelot had seen Merlin go down, a burning rage and an intense regret at not being able to kill the bastard responsible himself had made him see red. Now, as he looked down upon his injured friend — his hair matted with sweat and his skin flushed with fever, — he saw red once more.

Why _Merlin, _with his outgoing personality and cheery disposition and complete lack of armour? Why did _he _have to be the one to get shot?

Lancelot sighed and pulled a chair up next to Merlin, who had been moved back to Gaius's chambers.

"You are far too loyal for your own good, my friend," he said quietly.

The younger man's sleep seemed troubled as Lancelot watched him. He tossed about restlessly, mumbling incoherently now and then, his face drawn as though he were in pain. The knight frowned, but let him sleep nonetheless.

After a while, though, the restlessness became worse, and Lancelot couldn't let it go on any longer. Whatever nightmare Merlin was suffering had to stop. He shook Merlin's shoulder gently.

The younger man's eyes flew open and he tried to jerk upright, breathing hard, but Lancelot placed a firm hand on his chest and held him down.

"Easy, easy," he soothed as Merlin struggled.

"Lancelot?" the servant inquired hoarsely, calming a bit.

"That's right," the knight confirmed gently. A harsh tremor wracked through Merlin's body. "It's okay. You're okay."

Merlin gave Lancelot a reassuring grin as he settled. "Thanks."

The older man returned the smile, nodding as he poured Merlin a cup of water from the pitcher on the table.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after Merlin had drunk all the water and set the cup on the floor beside him.

The servant's grin faded. "I feel…" He paused for a moment, seeming to struggle in finding the right words. "I feel… not good," he finished, shuddering violently again.

Lancelot's gaze turned sympathetic. "You look it," he said, once again taking in the boy's appearance.

It was true. Merlin most definitely looked 'not good'. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, the skin there shining with sweat. Other than his cheeks, which were flushed red from heat, an undeniably sickly pallor had come over him, making the dark, bruise-like shadows under his eyes stand out even more. In short, he looked ill. Very ill.

Merlin sighed. "I know."

"How long do you think it will take before you're well again?" the knight asked. It was strange not having the good-humoured servant gallivanting about the castle.

"I'm not exactly sure," Merlin replied, his tone strangely careful. "Gaius says that the wound itself is minor and hardly reason for concern. It's the fever he's worried about."

"I don't blame him," Lancelot said, equally as carefully.

They held each other's gazes for a moment. For a reason Lancelot couldn't even hope to discern, Merlin's guard had gone up, leaving the knight at a loss for what to say.

"Well," the older man prompted after a while, standing. "I should go. Get some rest, Merlin. And feel better."

The servant smiled. "Thank you. I will."

* * *

When Arthur had first heard of Faerthurin's Well, he hadn't dreamed that he would ever come to be _looking_ for it. It was enchanted, for God's sake!

But when Morgana had gone missing, for some reason, _that _was what had come to mind. Looking for the Well. Asking the Spirits for information.

Faerthurin's Spirits were supposed to know _everything_. Morgana's whereabouts included. So the Prince, desperate to find the dark-haired woman, had made a decision.

They would find the Well — without the King's awareness, of course, — ask the Spirits, and be done with it.

Except it wasn't that easy.

The damn Well may have been nonexistent for all the progress they'd made in finding it. And now Merlin was injured and everything was just so bloody complicated.

"Having a good lie-in?" Arthur asked as he looked down at his manservant, his arms crossed over his chest.

Merlin grinned. "Of course. You know I got myself shot only to annoy you"

The Prince rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. "How typical of you." His smile faded. "Really, though, _Mer_lin, you can't be getting shot every time we go on an expedition. I won't have it."

"Worried, were we?" the servant teased, his eyes glinting.

Arthur huffed. "Absolutely not. Merely… concerned that it would look bad that I can't even protect my own idiot manservant."

"Uh-huh."

Arthur rolled his eyes again and sat in the chair next to Merlin, looking the younger man over. He grimaced.

"You look dreadful."

This time it was Merlin's turn to do some eye rolling. "Why, thank you so much, _Sire._ That was just what I needed to hear." He sighed. "I know, though. You're not the only person who's told me that today."

Arthur frowned as Merlin coughed wetly. He hesitated; debating on whether or not to check the servant's fever, and in the end swallowed his pride and placed a hand on Merlin's forehead. His frown deepened as he felt the unnatural heat burning from the younger man's skin.

"Does Gaius have anything for that fever?" he asked, looking around the room.

Merlin shrugged, coughing again.

Arthur sighed exasperatedly. "Really, _Mer_lin, do you know _anything_? You _are_ the patient here. Surely you can't be _that_ incompetent."

But Merlin was still coughing.

Arthur frowned deeply again, a strange, fluttering, sinking feeling in his stomach that could only be identified as panic. Very _slight_ panic, mind you, but panic all the same.

And it only got worse as Merlin coughed and coughed and _coughed_, sounding as though he'd been gargling nails. The Prince began to fear that Merlin wasn't getting enough oxygen.

His fear was only confirmed when, even after he'd stopped coughing, the younger man gasped as though he'd just been half-drowned.

Arthur didn't know what to do. The panic was clouding his thoughts now. He looked around desperately for something, _anything_ that could help. When he found nothing, he held Merlin's hand to his chest and struggled to breathe normally himself.

"Breathe, Merlin," he pleaded. "Calm down. Just breathe."

Soon enough Merlin was taking his breaths in time with Arthur's and Arthur could think straight again.

"Better?" he asked, rather stiffly.

The servant nodded. Arthur dropped his hand immediately.

"Thanks," Merlin said quietly after a while.

The Prince nodded, looking anywhere but his manservant, and asked, "Has that happened before?"

"Yeah," Merlin replied cautiously. "Once or twice."

Arthur nodded again. "Have you told Gaius?"

After a moment of silence Arthur stood up, giving his manservant a sharp look. "Tell him." With that, he strode out of the room.

* * *

"You did _what_?"

"I'm sorry, Gaius! I didn't mean to! I just… It called to me!"

The physician pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

It had been a week since the bandit attack. Merlin's wound was healing up nicely and his fever — with it, thank God, his cough — was beginning to go away.

"Merlin," Gaius sighed, "when I told you to steer Arthur clear of Faerthurin's Well, I didn't mean for you to go alone. I meant for you not to go _at all_."

"I know, Gaius," Merlin replied guiltily. "I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry."

"And what, may I ask, do you suppose you've given away with this coin?"

"I, um," the servant shifted uncomfortably. "I think I might have, possibly, been tricked into, er, giving my life for Arthur's, maybe."

"_Merlin!_"

"Sorry, sorry!" Merlin exclaimed, holding his hands up as if surrendering. "The Spirits asked me if I would give my life for Arthur and I said yes and then they said they could protect him and it would only cost a coin and my head was all fuzzy and I couldn't put the pieces together and so I gave them the coin."

"And then you were shot," Gaius concluded.

"And then I was shot."

"Honestly, Merlin," the physician scolded tiredly. "Do you listen to a word I say?"

"I did, I did listen," his ward protested. "I just — I couldn't think straight. There's some sort of enchantment on the Well."

"Of course there's an enchantment, foolish boy. It's how the Spirits trick people in the first place." Gaius passed a hand over his weary face. "I don't know how you're going to manage to get out of this one, Merlin. I'll see what I can find, but in the meantime, _please_ be careful."

"I will, Gaius, Merlin assured. "Don't worry."

"Don't worry," Gaius repeated, smiling humourlessly. "That, I am afraid, is impossible."

"Well then don't worry _too_ much. I'll be fine."

"I seem to recall that being what you said before you and Arthur started looking for the well," the physician reminded him, bustling about gathering books. "And yet here you are, ill and wounded with your life in the hands of Faerthurin's Spirits."

"And Arthur," Merlin added.

"What about Arthur?" the Prince asked, ducking into the room.

"Uh…"

"We were just discussing the members of the party that had gone out to search for Faerthurin's Well, Sire," Gaius lied smoothly. "It seems that I failed to mention you."

"I see. It's nice to know that Merlin remembers _some_ things."

"Yes," the physician agreed, giving his ward a pointed look. "Though apparently not as much as I would like him to."

Merlin looked down, ashamed.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Right. Gaius, I was wondering if you had anything for a headache."

"Are you unwell, Sire?"

"No," Arthur assured, "just tired."

"Ah," Gaius said, nodding and rummaging through the various potions. "Here we are." He handed Arthur the blue glass vial. "This should help. Get some rest, Arthur."

The Prince nodded compliantly, giving his manservant a quick once-over before leaving.

"Speaking of potions, it's time for you to take your medicine," the physician told Merlin. "Up."

The younger man groaned in protest, but sat up obediently. For the past week he had been subjected to various potions, salves, and poultices, each one fowler than the next. The worst by far was the potion he was forced to take every single day. It tasted absolutely horrid.

After downing the medicine and eating something, Merlin fell asleep quickly, still fairly exhausted.

This left Gaius some time to mull over what he'd discovered today.

He should have known better than to think that Merlin would be able to resist giving into the temptation of uncovering Faerthurin's Well if her spirits called to him. And giving his life for Arthur's was just so… _Merlin_.

Well there was nothing to be done about _that_ now. Gaius would just have to hope that he could find some way to put Merlin's life into his _own_ hands again.

* * *

**What do you think?**


	3. Snowing in the Armoury

**So. This chapter. **

**I decided that I didn't really fancy poisoning Merlin, and instead tried for a bit of humour. Forgive me; I honestly have no idea whether or not there are marble statues of guards in the castle. If there aren't, let's just pretend there are. For the sake of the story.**

**I hope you find this as funny as I intended it to be! Happy reading! =)**

* * *

It had been, give or take, three weeks since the incident with the bandits. Merlin was healed and back to work, albeit a bit slower — and, as His Royal Prattiness had oh-so-kindly stated, even more incompetent — than usual.

It was early autumn and beautiful out most days, excepting the occasional rainstorm. Arthur, however, was a bit under-appreciative thanks to his newfound allergies.

At this particular moment, Merlin was in Arthur's chambers helping him dress for the day.

"_Mer_lin, have you mucked out my… my horse's stall y — _achoo!_" the Prince's question was cut off by a serious of violent sneezes.

"You … make the most ridiculous… faces when you sneeze," Merlin gasped after he'd finished laughing, clutching his side and leaning against the wall for support.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin," Arthur snapped, glaring at his manservant. "It's not funny."

"Of course not, Sire," Merlin agreed, trying — and failing — to keep a straight face.

The Prince huffed and looked at Merlin expectantly. When the servant just stared at him, he said, "_Well?_"

"Well what?" Merlin asked, looking slightly miffed.

"Have you mucked out my horse's stall?"

"Oh," the servant said, comprehension dawning on his face. "Yeah."

"You have?" Arthur asked, looking surprised.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, Arthur. Believe it or not, I _am_ actually in the habit of doing what you tell me to."

Arthur scoffed. "Since when?"

"Maybe not _right_ when you tell me to, but I get it done eventually."

The Prince opened his mouth to reply no doubt with something prattish, but it didn't matter anyway because right at that moment his allergies decided to make their presence know again.

"Stop laughing at me, Merlin!" Arthur yelled when he'd stopped sneezing, throwing the goblet from his breakfast at the servant's head.

After evading being concussed, Merlin attempted to get his laughter under control and said, "Maybe you should stop making faces and sneeze like a normal person."

"Merlin."

"What? I'm just saying."

"Shut up."

It took three more attacks of sneezes — and laughter — before Arthur finally got fed up and snapped, "Where's that potion Gaius gave me for these allergies? This is outright ridiculous."

Merlin hesitated before fetching said potion off of the top of Arthur's armoire. The young warlock had a funny feeling about the medicine; it had been up there for ages and hadn't really looked right in the beginning. He doubted that giving it to the Prince would be a good idea.

"Well?" Arthur snapped. He seemed to be feeling particularly snappy today. "Are you going to give it to me or what?"

The servant slowly surrendered the bottle to his master, but his mind was whirring.

What if it had gone bad? What if it wasn't even for allergies in the first place? What if someone had snuck in when Arthur wasn't there and poisoned it?

"I think I want that," Merlin said suddenly, snatching the vial back and downing its contents just as Arthur was about to press it to his lips.

"What did you do _that_ for, you dolt?!" the Prince shouted, glaring daggers. "You don't even _need _it!"

The younger man just shrugged and pocketed the bottle for further inspection.

"Ugh, now I have to go get a new one and I don't even know if Gaius is in," Arthur griped. He gave Merlin a harsh shove towards the door. "Go polish my sword or something, idiot."

* * *

"You really shouldn't have done that, you know," a deep voice said as Merlin made his way towards the armoury.

Turning to his left, he found that the speaker was none other than one of the marble statues of a guard that were positioned about the castle. The statue was looking at him reproachfully.

"Done what?" the servant asked, confused.

"Drank the medicine," the statue replied in a disapproving tone. "It's making you loopy."

"I'm not loopy," Merlin protested.

The statue gave him a pointed look.

Then Merlin realised that he might just be a bit loopy, because he was talking to a statue, and the statue was talking back.

"Okay, maybe a little," the young warlock allowed. "Better me than the future king, though, right?"

"I suppose," the statue sighed, "but you really shouldn't be going around loopier than you are normally. People will begin to wonder about you."

"Oh, shove off," Merlin snapped, feeling deeply offended that the statue had just insinuated that he was loopy on a regular basis.

He continued on his journey to the armoury, ignoring the statue's judgemental stare.

When he came across a rabbit that was hopping about the hall, he couldn't help but be surprised. How in the word had a _rabbit_ gotten into the castle?

Still, it was white as fresh linen and looked softer than the down on a baby bird, so Merlin bent and held a hand out to it, only to jump back in horror when it hissed at him in a way that no rabbit should ever hiss.

"Bad rabbit!" he scolded, glaring at the creature. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

The rabbit returned his glare before turning its back abruptly and hopping back down the way Merlin had come.

After staring after it for a moment and shaking his head, Merlin continued on his way until finally he reached the armoury.

He pulled the door open, mentally preparing himself for the many nicks that came with polishing Arthur or anyone's sword, and let out a yell of shock.

It was snowing. In the armoury.

Wait, snowing in the armoury? That couldn't be right. Merlin blinked and shook his head, only to find that he had not been mistaken, because it was, in fact, snowing. In the armoury.

Which was why he wasn't all that surprised when Arthur's sword began speaking to him.

"Why did you drink Arthur's potion, _Mer_lin?" the sword asked, sounding a lot like the royal prat himself. "You didn't even _need_ it."

"No, but I didn't want Arthur taking it either," the servant replied indignantly.

"And why not?"

"Because… because…" Merlin fought to remember why he had even taken the medicine in the first place. "There was something wrong with it."

"I'll say."

"Would you shut up and leave me alone?" the young warlock snapped, pressing the stone harder along the edge of the metal.

"Ouch!" the sword exclaimed. "Watch it."

"Sorry, sorry," Merlin sighed, letting up.

"You know, _Mer_lin… Arthur appreciates all you've done for him."

Merlin scoffed and brushed some of the snow from his hair. "Yeah right. He doesn't even know about _half _of the things I've done for him."

"_I_ know about what you've done," the sword said. "_I_ appreciate it."

"Well thanks," the servant replied, surprised that the sword had even noticed what he'd done let alone taken the time to tell Merlin he appreciated it. "Hang on, you don't even have eyes. Or ears. How could you possibly know what I've done for Arthur? Come to think about it, you don't have a mouth either. How are we even having this conversation?"

"Merlin."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"But how can you —?"

"_Mer_lin, I said shut up."

"Fine," Merlin grumbled.

"Merlin?" the voice of Elyan called. A moment later said knight appeared, staring at Merlin confusedly. "Who are you talking to?"

"Arthur's sword," the servant replied. "It's very talkative. You know, for a weapon. Hey, Elyan, do you think this snow is going to stop anytime soon? It's going to rust all the metal, and then I'll be polishing for _ages_."

* * *

"I don't know what's wrong with him," Elyan told Gaius worriedly. "He told me that he was talking to Arthur's sword. And he asked if I thought it was going to stop snowing soon. At first I thought he was kidding, but then he asked me, in all seriousness, how I'd gotten my armour to dance." The knight looked at Merlin, who was currently staring at his armour with a mixture of frustration and amazement in his expression. "I think he's hallucinating," he added.

"Well, he doesn't have a fever or any signs of recent head trauma," the physician concluded. "There's only one other thing I can think of —"

He was interrupted by the door opening and Gwaine coming in with a badly bruised and possibly broken hand, mumbling under his breath.

"Hello, Gwaine," Merlin called, grinning. His grin faded into a look of shock however, when he caught sight of the knight's head. "Gwaine?"

"Yes, Merlin?" Gwaine responded, looking at his friend questioningly.

"Why is your hair green?"

"What?!" the older man exclaimed, his eyes going wide.

"Calm down, your hair isn't green," Elyan reassured, ignoring Merlin's protest of "Yes it is!" "Merlin's hallucinating."

"Why?" Gwaine asked, his eyes growing concerned as he looked the younger man over.

"As I was about to say before you came in," Gaius said as he tended to the knight's hand, "since he doesn't show any signs of fever or head trauma, the only thing I can think of is a non-lethal poison that causes hallucinations. Merlin, did you take any sort of potion today?"

"Huh?" The servant started, having been transfixed once more by Elyan's chain mail. "Oh, yeah. Arthur's allergy potion. I don't remember why I took it, though. Did you know that it's snowing in the armoury?"

Gwaine chuckled and said, "Is it, now?"

Gaius stiffened slightly, confused. "Why would someone try to give the Prince a non-lethal hallucinogen?"

"Um, maybe they wanted him to seem mentally unstable," Elyan suggested.

"_Who_ would try to give Princess a non-lethal hallucinogen?" Gwaine asked.

"Gaius, why does the door look like it wants to eat me?"

"Is there an antidote or something?" Elyan asked, fighting a grin.

"I'm afraid not," the physician replied, giving a chuckle of his own. "But seeing as the bottle wasn't that big to begin with, there wasn't much room for the poison, so it was a very small dose. If we just let it run its course, Merlin should be back to normal by tomorrow."

"Gaius, are you in here? I need — _oomph!_" Arthur's request was cut off sharply as he was tackled by his manservant, who had crossed the room too quickly for anyone to stop him.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" the Prince groaned as he was held down.

"I'm saving you from the door," Merlin said. "It wants to eat us. I barely got through with my life."

Elyan and Gwaine broke out in fits of laughter.

"What _are_ you going on about?" Arthur snapped, shoving Merlin off of him and standing up.

"Forgive him, Sire," Gaius amended. "It seems he's taken a hallucinogen that was meant for you. A rather _strong_ hallucinogen at that."

"Meant for me, you say?" the Prince asked, looking rather surprised.

"Yes," the physician confirmed. "Concealed in the potion I'd given you for your allergies."

Arthur blinked. "Oh. I was just about to ask you for a new one, seeing as Merlin had drained my last. Why would someone try to give me a _hallucinogen?_" he asked incredulously. "Poison I can understand. But that?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Princess," Gwaine said. "It's a good thing Merlin took that potion instead, though, otherwise you'd be running around like a raving lunatic."

"I suppose so," Arthur said, glancing at his manservant, who was still on the ground. "Is there an antidote?"

"Unfortunately not, but it was a very small dose, so it will wear off in a day or so," Gaius said. "In the meantime, I shall inform the guards and have them search for the hallucinogen."

* * *

As it turns out, the hallucinogen had been distributed by a rather old servant who had, at some point, lost quite a few of his marbles. The servant seemed to be drunk a lot of the time, and, upon further inspection, it was noted that he appeared to be taking the same hallucinogen himself. Why he put the poison into Arthur's potion no one could really figure out. Perhaps he was just that crazy.

The servant was confined to the dungeons until further instruction from the Prince concerning his punishment.

At the present moment, however, Arthur had other matters to attend to.

* * *

"Merlin — for God's sake — _would you put that down?_"

"But Sire, we're in danger —"

"We aren't in any _danger_, you idiot!"

"But _Arthur_, the table —"

"The _table_ is not going to hurt us!"

Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, and Lancelot shook with barely-contained laughter as they listened to the commotion on the other side of the door to the Prince's chambers.

"Arthur —"

"Shut up!"


	4. And the Rocks Came Tum-ba-lin Down

**So I was reading through and found that I've switched a couple of letters around in various places. Please forgive me; I have a bit of dyslexia. Anyway, I fixed the timeline - I think - thanks to a guest who pointed the mistake out. I also fixed the fact that I had the setting in both the middle of October and the beginning of Spring. **

**Happy reading! =)**

* * *

The next morning found Merlin with a massive headache and no recollection of the previous day's events. Judging by the state he was in, however, he guessed that he had gone to the tavern.

The servant groaned. Arthur was bound to be furious. And he was already late.

"What a fantastic day this is going to be," Merlin grumbled sarcastically. He slipped out of bed and dressed quickly, shivering in the cool autumn air.

"Good morning, Merlin," Gaius greeted, carefully examining the young warlock as he stepped out of his room. "Breakfast?"

Merlin grimaced. The thought of food made his stomach churn. "Not today, thanks," he replied, already half out the door. "Late as it is."

The servant wasn't surprised that Arthur was already awake by the time he arrived with his breakfast. He _was_ surprised, though, to find that the Prince seemed to be regarding him as cautiously as Gaius had been.

"All right, Merlin?" Arthur asked as Merlin set the tray on the table in front of him. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," the younger man snorted. Then he sighed. "I feel like hell." He peered up at Arthur. "Do you, er, know what happened yesterday? I can't remember…"

"As a matter of fact I do," the Prince responded, taking a sip from his goblet. "You drank my allergy tonic. It was laced with hallucinogen."

Merlin blinked. "Oh." His cheeks heated as he imagined everything he could have done while he was intoxicated.

Arthur noticed this and smirked. "Yes. Thought the table was going to kill us. It's a good thing that you stabbed it before it had the chance."

The servant's blush intensified. He began to tidy Arthur's chambers, avoiding meeting the older man's eyes.

"We're going back out to look for the Well today," Arthur said after a few minutes. "Seeing as you're no longer ill."

Merlin stiffened. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" the Prince asked, frowning.

"I… nothing," Merlin sighed. He would just have to do his best to lead Arthur away from Faerthurin's Well if they got too close.

After cleaning Arthur's chambers and helping him get dressed, Merlin gathered the dirty dished and took them back down to the kitchen. On the way he met Elyan, who asked him if he was all right, to which he replied with a grin and a reassurance that he was perfectly fine. Well, almost. If it weren't for that blasted pounding in his head… The knight, upon realising that there was nothing wrong with his friend, grinned and informed him that it had stopped snowing in the armoury.

On the way back he met Gwaine, who asked him, smirking, if his hair was still green. He howled with laughter as the servant's cheeks reddened.

By the time Merlin made it back to Arthur's chambers, he was flustered an bruised from tripping over his own feet — which had done nothing for his head — and felt as though the blush that had spread from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears was surely permanent.

"Have you readied the horses?" Arthur asked as he head the door open, not looking up from the letter on his desk.

"Oh — horses. I… right. Questing. Horses. Right," Merlin stammered, running a hand through his already tousled hair. He didn't notice the odd look Arthur gave him as he turned and promptly careened into the doorframe — again, doing absolutely _nothing _for his head — before making his way out of the chambers. Or maybe he did. If so, he ignored it.

The young warlock found a bit of solace as he gently brushed down his and Arthur's mares.

"At least I didn't say anything crazy to _you_," he muttered. Arthur's horse snorted in agreement. "How could I have been so naїve? I just threw my life away without a second thought. And I can't protect Arthur _or_ Camelot if I'm dead, even if by dieing I'm protecting them in the process." He sighed and stroked the animal's nose. She looked at him, her eyes warm, as if she was telling him that everything would be all right. He smiled at her before wincing. His head still hurt with an undying fervour.

By the time Merlin had resolved to get some sort of tonic from Gaius, the knights had begun gathering and it was too late. The servant groaned internally, knowing that he'd have to live with this headache throughout the entire journey. But he supposed it was a fair price to pay for drinking a dodgy allergy potion.

Arthur arrived a few moments later and, after quickly surveying Merlin and nodding to himself, mounted his horse, signalling everyone else to do the same.

The young warlock didn't quite remember the exact location of the Well, though he was fairly sure that it was only an hour or so's ride from Camelot. So when they had passed that hour's mark, he sighed quietly to himself in relief.

The relief was shot-lived, however, when Prince Prat decided that they should be looking for the Well up the side of a mountain that just happened to stand over a river. Now Merlin was fast, and stealthy when he wanted to be, but he wasn't exactly one for climbing. Or swimming. Quite honestly, he couldn't swim to save his life.

How on this green earth Arthur and the knights managed to climb up the face a mountain fully armed was beyond Merlin. How they managed to climb up the face of a mountain fully armed _and_ keep Merlin from falling off was just so ridiculously unimaginable that the servant decided to just let it go, resolving that both his brain and his ego would suffer in trying to come up with an answer. Still, they were there; a hand to grab his tunic if he slipped, a voice to ease his anxiety if he began to go into what could probably be classified as a minor panic attack.

To say that Merlin was glad when they reached a ledge wide enough to stand on would be like pointing out that you're decidedly and most definitely not a horse. The young warlock clung to the rock wall for a moment, regulating his breathing and silently thanking the lords for the solid stone beneath his feet. He settled on not looking down, because the height made him dizzy and the fact that there was nothing below them but rushing, swirling, foamy water nearly caused him to faint.

"Stop being such a girl, _Merlin_," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. He stopped for a second and peered into the river. "You don't suppose the Well was washed away or something?"

Merlin knew what was going to happen before the section of stone Arthur was standing on began to crack.

For a split second, the younger man was torn. He couldn't _swim_. If he did this now, it would surely be the death of him. But Arthur was wearing full armour and carrying a sword, and while the Prince had probably been taught how to swim, it didn't matter anyway because he would just sink. If Merlin _didn't_ do this now, it would surely be the death of Arthur.

Without another thought, Merlin leapt from his place and shoved Arthur to safety. The ground crumbled beneath his feet, and suddenly he was free falling.

_Use your magic, you fool!_ a part of his mind screamed.

_You can't, you can't, Arthur will see,_ another, bigger part protested.

Merlin didn't have time to decide, however, for the next thing he knew was an all-consuming coldness that froze his thoughts and his body. Panicking, the young warlock tried desperately to draw in a breath, only to be met by a lungful of water.

And then there was darkness.

* * *

That _idiot_.

That complete and utter _moron_.

Damn him. Damn him to hell.

Damn him to hell and back again for all he's put Arthur through.

After Merlin disappeared into the swirling water, Arthur waited. And waited. And _waited_. But the younger man didn't resurface.

Cursing Merlin and the river and _all_ the mighty gods above, the Prince struggled out of his armour, cast his sword aside, and jumped.

It was freezing, there in the water. The cold shocked his system and blackness tugged at the edge of his consciousness, but Arthur fought. He had to get to Merlin.

The Prince searched frantically, the current pulling him downstream. He came up and sucked in a quick breath of air before going under again.

Just as he began to panic, just as he began to think that he was too late, that Merlin would be lost to him forever, he saw it. A pale hand, the fingernails tinted blue. A hand that was attached to an arm that was attached to a torso…

Arthur grabbed Merlin round the chest and dragged him up, out of the water. He resisted the current and crawled onto the shore where the knights were waiting, faces drained of colour.

"Merlin, you great idiot," he muttered weakly, looking down at the younger man.

Merlin didn't respond. He didn't stir. He was still. Too still. Too unnaturally still…

And Arthur realised, with horror, that he wasn't breathing. Merlin wasn't breathing. He wasn't breathing, oh gods, he wasn't breathing…

"Arthur, you need to calm down and get out of the way." Leon's firm voice snapped Arthur back to reality. He realised that he had been repeating, "He's not breathing, he's not breathing," over and over again and shaking Merlin as though he could shake the breath back into him.

When the Prince didn't move, Gwaine gave him a shove that sent him sprawled on his backside. Arthur scrambled up and watched as Leon knelt in the space he had been previously occupying, adjusted Merlin in front of him, and hit the young man forcefully on the chest.

Merlin coughed, an alarming amount of water spouting from his mouth, and began taking in desperate, shuddering breaths. Leon thumped the servant's chest with his fist one more time for good measure.

Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon, Elyan, and Percival all crowded around the younger man, watching with concern as his eyes fluttered.

Merlin blinked dazedly up at them and licked his lips — that were, thank God, losing their blue tinge and slowly retuning to a normal colour, along with his skin — before saying, "My head hurts."

* * *

"You will be the death of me, Merlin, I swear it," Arthur growled, glaring at the unconscious manservant who was, apparently, unyieldingly suicidal.

The sun was just starting to set, but the light from the fire they had built danced merrily, illuminating the seven men sitting around it. They had doubled back a bit and set up camp in an attempt to warm Merlin. The servant, who had been stripped of his freezing clothes down to his breeches, was wrapped in all of their cloaks and placed strategically so that the heat of the flames blanketed his slight form, was _still_ trembling like a leaf.

"In Merlin's defence, _Sire_," Gwaine spat, "I believe that it was _you_ who was almost the death of _Merlin_." The knight, for some reason, blamed Merlin's near brush with death on Arthur.

"It's not my fault he's too bloody loyal to save his own bloody arse," the Prince snapped back.

They glared at each other until Lancelot intervened tiredly. "Come on, you two. Let it be."

Arthur sighed and settled against the tree he had been leaning on. He had removed his tunic and hung it on the tree branch above his head to dry. His trousers had nearly dried as well, seeing as he was sitting close enough to the fire himself. He knew that they should get Merlin back to Camelot soon, but he was reluctant to remove him from the warm camp.

The Prince had to admit that he was deeply shaken by this close encounter. It was an all-too-vivid reminder of the time Merlin had taken a bolt for him. Arthur decided then and there that he would put an end to this reckless valour if it was the last thing he did. He did _not _need any more heart attacks, thank you very much.

"We should start heading back," Arthur said, standing.

They made it back to Camelot before sundown, and Gaius said that after a full meal and a good night's rest, Merlin would be fine. Arthur made his way back to his chambers and began preparing himself.

* * *

Merlin woke the next morning feeling surprisingly… normal. It was almost as though he hadn't nearly drowned the day before.

"Good morning, Gaius," he said as he walked out of his room, giving the old physician a smile.

His smile was returned. "Good morning, my boy. How do you feel?"

"I feel great, actually," Merlin stated, letting the surprise colour his tone. He sat down to eat. "Better than I did yesterday."

"Good, good," Gaius replied, setting a bit of bread and porridge in front of him, along with a cup of water. "I'm needed in the lower town today — will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine, Gaius, don't worry."

The old man grimaced; reminding Merlin that the last two times he'd said that he'd given his uncle quite the reason to worry.

After breakfast, Merlin fetched Arthur's own from the kitchen and set off for the Prince's chambers. He was surprised, this time, to find him awake and waiting for him, arms crossed.

"Put that down and sit," Arthur ordered, his voice hard. He pointed to the chair in front of him.

Merlin did as he was told, dread starting to curl in his stomach. Whenever Arthur was like this it meant something bad had happened and it was probably Merlin's fault.

"This will stop immediately," the Prince barked, glaring at his manservant.

"What will stop?" Merlin asked, bewildered.

"This… giving your life for mine. You are to worry about your life _only_, Merlin. I can take care of myself."

The younger man rolled his eyes. "You were wearing armour, Arthur. You would have drowned."

"And you wouldn't have? You can't _swim_, Merlin!" the Prince yelled.

"And you're the future King of Camelot!" Merlin retorted.

"That doesn't matter!"

"You don't understand!"

Arthur threw his hands up in frustration and cast his eyes to the ceiling. "Lord almighty, protect me from all things I don't understand. _Make_ me understand, Merlin!"

The younger man just glared at the Prince. "Prat."

"Idiot."

It was silent for a moment, but when Arthur spoke again, he didn't look at Merlin and his voice was no longer angry. It was surprisingly vulnerable. "Please, Merlin. You… scared me."

Merlin's gaze softened. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'll try to be more careful."


	5. When the Nobles Come A-Visiting

**This chapter is longer than the others. I'm happy! =D**

* * *

Merlin snickered at the expression on Arthur's face.

"You don't even _know _the man and already you look as though you wish to run him through," he said quietly as the visiting Lord introduced himself to Uther in a formal, polite way that just seemed a bit… off.

"There's something not right about him," Arthur said, eyeing Lord Deluon apprehensively.

"Arthur, he's spoken not six words to you."

"It doesn't matter," the Prince snapped, glaring at his manservant. "Something's wrong with him. I can tell."

Merlin looked at Arthur in amusement. "Whatever you say, Sire."

He couldn't help but agree with his master, though. There was something odd in the way the Lord talked, in the way he held himself, the way he looked at the King and Arthur and the knights and _everyone_. However, he didn't want to give Arthur any more reason to be suspicious, so he said nothing.

"We shall be better suited to discuss our trade over the banquet," Merlin heard Uther announce. "Come, let us prepare." The King looked around before once again settling his gaze on Lord Deluon, his eyes questioning. "Do you have no servant?"

Deluon frowned. "My personal servant has recently taken ill and was unable to accompany me, your Highness. I suppose it did not occur that I should bring a different one."

"Ah, well," Uther said, "we will be happy to supply you with a temporary servant while you are staying." He turned his head to Merlin and looked the younger man over before nodding to himself. "My son's manservant shall aid you."

Arthur looked as though he were about to object. "It would be an honour, my Lord," Merlin intervened before the Prince could say a word, dipping himself into a low bow. Arthur threw him a scowl.

"Very good," Uther said, turning and walking away. "I will expect you in the Banquet Hall in an hour's time."

"You idiot," Arthur growled lowly, rounding on his servant. "Didn't I just tell you that something was wrong?"

"Arthur —"

"Come now, young man," Lord Deluon interrupted from behind Merlin, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "I wish to prepare for the banquet."

"Yes, my Lord, right this way." Merlin rolled his eyes at the Prince before walking into the castle, Deluon beside him. They weaved through the hallways and up the stairs until they finally arrived at the guest chambers in which the visiting Lord would be staying. He opened heavy wooden door and stepped aside, allowing Deluon to enter.

"Come in, boy, and close the door behind you," the Lord ordered.

Merlin pulled the door shut obligingly and waited with his hands clasped behind his back. "What can I do for you, my Lord?"

Deluon studied the servant for a moment in a way that sent a slight chill down the younger man's spine. Finally, he spoke. "So you're the Prince's manservant, eh?" Merlin nodded. "You two are close, then. Close enough for you to call him by his given name without a flogging." The Lord stepped closer, circling Merlin. The servant was reminded forcibly of an animal stalking its prey. "Close enough for him to tell you about his plans as future King."

Merlin jerked back in surprise. "What?"

"What you can do for me," Deluon said in a polite tone, "is tell me what the Prince intends to do when he is the King of Camelot."

"Well," Merlin said sarcastically, pretending to think hard and ignoring the slight fluttering in his stomach that was telling him that provoking Deluon was a _very _bad idea, "let's see. I believe he intends to _rule_. That _is _what King's do, is it n—?"

The question was cut off by a vicious backhand across the face. "You will not be smart with me, boy," Deluon said in a quiet, deadly voice. "You will tell me what I wish to know, and you will speak of this to no one, do you understand?"

Merlin gathered the coppery blood filling his mouth on his tongue and spat at the Lord's finely polished boots.

* * *

"Ugh," Merlin groaned, leaning heavily against the stone wall and clutching his chest. It was almost time for the banquet and he had yet to help Arthur prepare. He needed to get to Gaius's chambers first, though, to find something for the bruising.

Wondering vaguely if his ribs were broken, he pushed himself off of the wall, only to find himself being supported by the stone once more.

_Sod Arthur_, the servant thought, again pushing to stand on his own. _He can take care of himself. It's going to take forever to get to Gaius's chambers at this rate, and I need that salve if I don't want this to be noticeable. _

It was a slow and weary walk down to the physician's chambers. Merlin could only hope that Gaius had already left.

He had, thank the Lords, but the young warlock was running out of time. He threw off his tunic and winced — both at the pain and the sight of his exposed torso — before rubbing the salve quickly over his wounds. It helped a bit, though Merlin still had to move rather gingerly. He only just got to the banquet on time.

"Where _have _you been?" Arthur hissed quietly as Merlin showed up to take his custom spot behind him. "Why is your face bruised? And why are you walking with a limp?"

"I'm not," the servant protested, frowning.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You most certainly _are_. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing," Merlin sighed.

The Prince snorted. "Uh huh. What happened to your face?"

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Uther's voice caught his attention.

"Was the servant's performance up to your standards?"

Merlin's head jerked to where Uther and Deluon were sitting, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

Deluon glanced at him and smirked before composing his features into a gracious smile. "Yes, your Highness. He was most helpful."

"Good, good."

Merlin bit back a growl.

"Merlin?" The servant's attention snapped back to Arthur, who was now looking at him with a mixture of confusion, anger, and concern. "What did he do?"

"Nothing, of course," Merlin lied smoothly, grinning and rolling his eyes. "You are so paranoid, Arthur."

Arthur glowered.

* * *

The banquet went well, the trade seemingly without problem, and Merlin thought that maybe, _maybe _he would be able to just go back to his room and —

"I require Merlin's services for tonight," Deluon stated, "but I should have no need of him in the morning. He need only tend me in the evenings."

"Very well," Uther complied, waving a hand vaguely in Merlin's direction.

The younger man stiffened. Of course.

"Then I believe I shall retire, with your consent," the Lord said, standing. The King nodded and Deluon turned to Merlin, who tailed after him unwillingly.

When they got into Deluon's chambers, the Lord immediately had Merlin against the closed door by his throat.

"Maybe this time you will remember to respect your betters, boy," he breathed in Merlin's ear, causing the servant to shudder. "Are you going to tell me what I wish to know, or will I have to demonstrate how _disobedient serving lowlifes _are _supposed_ to be disciplined again?" He squeezed Merlin's neck harder, cutting off his airways

"You can go to Hell," Merlin managed to choke out. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

The Lord shook his head sadly. "Such a waste," he sighed. "You're rather nice to look at, did you know?"

The young warlock's shock lasted for only a second before it was muddled by pain. He grunted and his hand flew to his jaw, where he could already feel a bruise blossoming.

"And if you chose to speak of this to anyone…" the Lord said, pausing for a moment to smile a sick, sadistic smile, "well, the Court Physician _is _getting quite old. He must have to be incredibly _careful _now, so as not to trip and fall, don't you think?"

"Don't touch him," Merlin hissed, bringing his knee up forcefully to the older man's groin.

It was much, much worse that time. If his ribs weren't broken before, surely they were now. When it was over and he was once again shoved out into the hallway, he thought vaguely that he would have to bind them before tomorrow morning.

He groaned. Tomorrow morning.

As he trudged back to Gaius's chambers, he thought of all the ways he could try to hide this from Arthur. What the hell was he going to say?

_"What bruises? I don't see any bruises, Arthur. You're obviously losing your sanity."_

It would never work. Arthur would drag him down to Gaius and then he'd be in a world of trouble.

_"Oh, yes, the bruises. I was tending to the horses and one of them was being particularly skittish. Caught me with its hooves a few times."_

But being kicked by a horse meant a lot more than some bruising and a couple of broken ribs, and Arthur knew it.

_"I fell down the stairs."_

Perfect. If there was anything Arthur wouldn't question, it was Merlin's clumsiness. The young warlock almost laughed with relief.

"Gaius?" Merlin called softly as he opened the door. The only response was light snoring.

Slipping in as quietly as he could, Merlin gathered the slave he'd used for the bruising and a few fresh strips of linen to bind his ribs before going into his room. He rubbed on the salve for the second time that night and wrapped the linen around his torso, then climbed into his bed, wincing as pressure was distributed on the wounds.

_I'm never going to get to sleep,_ he thought despairingly.

* * *

The next morning, Merlin woke with a start. Soft sunlight streamed through his dusty window and he could hear Gaius bustling about it the other room.

He pushed himself off of the bed with a groan. Everything hurt. Moving slowly, Merlin managed to dress himself and haul himself to the table where Gaius had set a bit of breakfast.

The old physician raised an eyebrow.

"I just fell down a few steps," Merlin said in response to Gaius's unasked question, grinning reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about."

Gaius just looked at him.

After a few moments, Merlin shifted uncomfortably under the older man's gaze. "Um, have you — have you found anything on Faerthurin's Well?"

"A few things," Gaius replied, still looking at his ward in that unnerving manner. "It isn't unheard of to win your life back from the Spirits, though I have yet to uncover how it can be done."

"Oh," Merlin replied, avoiding Gaius's eyes. "That's good, right? That people have gotten their lives back?"

Gaius only hummed lightly in response.

Merlin was glad to get out of Gaius chambers and away from his uncle. He whistled as he strode into Arthur's room with the Prince's breakfast and set down the tray to draw the curtains.

Arthur groaned and turned away from the light, pulling the blankets over his head.

"Time to get up!" Merlin sang, tugging sharply at the sheets. "Up! Get up!" He yanked on Arthur's arm, pulling the blonde's upper half slightly off of the bed.

The Prince sat up then and glared. Merlin beamed at him.

"What the hell happened to _you?_" Arthur grumbled, sliding out of the bed and stretching.

"Fell down some stairs," Merlin replied, going over to fill Arthur's goblet.

"Only you, Merlin," Arthur sighed. "How are you supposed to help me train when you look like _that?_"

"It isn't that bad!" the younger man protested.

Arthur gave him a pointed look, then sighed again. "I suppose you'll just have to do something else. Make sure you muck out the stables while I'm gone."

"Yes, Sire." Merlin grinned. At least one good thing came out of all of this.

By the time Merlin was finished all of his chores — including mucking out the stables, — it was nearly time to go 'tend' Lord Deluon. He left Arthur's dinner on the table and started for Deluon's chambers.

He would have to endure this torture for three more days, until the Lord left. He grimaced.

By the time he reached Lord Deluon's room and knock on the door, he'd already thought of a list of nicknames for the man — of which included Lord Demon-Spawn and Lord Lying-Two-Faced-Jerk-of-the-Universe — and when the door opened he had to restrain himself from calling Deluon any of said nicknames. This proved to be quite the difficult task.

"You required me this evening, Lord Demon — I mean Deluon?"

"Yes, now get in," the Lord snapped, yanking Merlin in by his wrist.

As soon as the door was closed, Merlin was on the floor defending himself from a series of kicks to his already severely abused ribs.

"Tell me, boy!" Deluon snarled, jerking the younger man up by his hair. "What are the Prince's plans!"

"Please, stop," Merlin whimpered, clutching round his middle. Deluon growled and shoved Merlin away none-too-gently.

"You useless waste of flesh!" the Lords roared, pacing the floor red faced. He pulled at his dark curls.

Suddenly, the servant was being held by the hair again, a knife at his neck.

"You will tell me what I wish to know," Deluon said in a calm, deadly voice, "or I will slit your throat."

"You… cant," Merlin gasped. "Arthur — Arthur would… find out."

The knife sliced at his cheek and he was released.

"Leave," Deluon bit. "You will come back tomorrow."

Merlin hid in the armoury until it was finally late enough that Gaius would be asleep. He didn't know how he was going to be able to survive another _day _of this torture, let alone another three.

But there was nothing he could do. He just had to wait.

* * *

"Merlin, I order you to tell me what is going on," Arthur said in a hard voice, glaring at his manservant with his arms crossed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Arthur," Merlin replied, not looking up from his tidying.

Arthur growled. "_Mer_lin. You look worse than you did yesterday! And if you tell me that you fell down another flight of stairs I will have you thrown in the stocks.

The servant rolled his eyes. "You're overreacting, Arthur." He sighed internally. If only the Prince knew. Then he would _really_ be overreacting.

"I am _not_!" Arthur snapped, striding over to his manservant. "What happened to your damn face?"

"Nothing!" Merlin glared at the Prince, who closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply.

"Come to my chambers after you tend to Lord Deluon," he ordered, not opening his eyes. "We will discuss this then."

"Fine," Merlin retorted, going back to his chores.

"Fine," Arthur repeated just as viciously.

* * *

_He's going to find out,_ was Merlin's only though as he walked through the hallway to Arthur's chambers, bracing himself on the wall. _There's no way he won't_.

It hadn't been as bad this time. Other than nearly choking the younger man to death with his own neckerchief, Lord Demon-Spawn hadn't really done anything physical. There had been a lot of threatening, though.

"I'm here," Merlin sighed as he opened the door to the Prince's chambers.

Arthur sat on the bed. After Merlin shut the door, the older man motioned him forward.

When Merlin stood but a few feet away, Arthur looked at him. Just looked at him. He studied the younger man intently, his eyes scouring every inch of his body. For a long time he looked at him. Then, he said quietly, "Take off your tunic."

Merlin backed up a few steps. "Arthur…"

The Prince's eyes hardened, as did his voice. "Take off your tunic, Merlin."

Merlin hesitated. But Arthur finding out was inevitable anyway, so he did as he was told.

As soon as the fabric was out of the way, Arthur stood, rampant fire in his eyes. He circled his manservant slowly, taking in the dark splotches that covered the pale skin more than it didn't, the messy binding of Merlin's ribs, in a way that was slightly akin to the way Lord Deluon did. Merlin suppressed a shiver.

"What did Deluon want from you?" Arthur asked, his voice calm and quiet. But Merlin heard the fury that raged beneath the surface.

Sighing, the servant walked towards Arthur's bed and sat down, no longer finding the strength to stand. "He wanted your plans as the future King. Apparently, he already knew that you planned to rule."

"A traitor, then," Arthur acknowledged, nodding, "good. Now I can run him through without my father getting angry."

"Arthur," Merlin said wearily, "you can't just kill him."

The Prince didn't answer; rather, he walked over to where Merlin sat and pulled away the servant's neckerchief gently, fingering lightly at the bruises on the pale throat.

"Oh, I'm sure any number of people would gladly volunteer," Arthur muttered darkly, taking Merlin's hand and pulling him up from the bed. "Come with me."

The young warlock reached for his shirt, but Arthur snapped, "Leave it." He didn't dare argue.

"Gather the knights," Arthur ordered a nearby guard as they came out of his chambers. "Tell them I wish to speak with them."

"Arthur," Merlin protested, "don't —"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur growled.

It was early enough that the knights weren't drunk yet. Well, except for Gwaine, but even he was only slightly intoxicated. They all stared at Arthur and Merlin, who was half-hidden behind the Prince, from the training field. Leon, Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine, who were standing closest to the two, were staring at Merlin in barely-suppressed outrage.

"Arthur —" Merlin began, only to be cut off with a fierce glower. Arthur pulled Merlin out from behind him and instead displayed him in front, resting a gloved hand very gently on the younger man's bruised shoulder.

"I have called you all here because _my manservant_," Arthur called gesturing to Merlin, though he didn't need to, "has very recently been severely abused, as you can see, by none other than the visiting Lord Deluon. It has therefore been brought to my attention that this is perhaps not the only case of abuse towards servants in Camelot. But abuse of servants is some thing that I _will not_ tolerate. If any of you ever hear of a servant being abused or find one in a state like this, you will come to me immediately." Arthur glared at the group of men around him. "And if _any _of you so much as _think _about hitting someone below you when they do not deserve it, you will be stripped of your knighthood and banished from this kingdom. As knights, your job is to protect those unable to protect themselves. You will not use your status for _power such as that_."

All of the knights nodded.

"Dismissed," Arthur barked.

"I'll kill that bastard," Gwaine swore as the others dispersed, shaking with anger. "I'll kill him!" Leon, Percival, Elyan, and Lancelot murmured in agreement.

Arthur sighed. "As much as I would like to, Merlin was right. We can't just kill him. We have to do this strategically."

* * *

"I don't care if your Prince finds out!" Deluon roared. "If you do not tell me what he plans to do as King, I will kill you right here!"

A sword at the Lord's throat stopped him dead in his tracks.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Arthur said lowly. Deluon paled like a man condemned. Which he might as well be. "Did you really think that you could get away with hurting my servant, with threatening my physician, with stealing _confidential information_ without my notice? You _are _an idiot, aren't you?"

"S-Sire," Deluon stammered, "this is not what it — what it looks like, I can assure you…"

"You can assure me nothing," Arthur growled. "You are a traitor. Guards!"

Two men came in immediately and took the struggling Lord by the arms, dragging him from the room. Arthur sat down on the bed.

"You have the worst luck, Merlin," the Prince mused.

"No, _you _have the worst luck," Merlin corrected, grinning. "And so I, by extension have bad luck as well."

Arthur rolled his eyes, smirking. "Yes, _Mer_lin. Now shut up."

* * *

**I'm at a bit of a loss for what happens next. In order for the story to progress, Arthur has to become suspicious as to why so many bad things are happening to Merlin. In order for Arthur to become suspicious as to why so many bad things are happening to Merlin, lots of bad things have to happen. I have a plan for this story, but I need some help getting there. So. If you would be so kind, dear readers, I would appreciate it if you made some suggestions for what should happen to our poor warlock. Thank you very much! =)**


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